After Clinic
by John Faina
Summary: House has trouble concentrating after an unusual meeting with Wilson in Exam Room 2.


**Title: After Clinic**

**Author: John Faina**

**Ratings/Warnings: PG (some parental guidance needed)**

**Pairings/Characters: House/Wilson**

**Disclaimer: I'm glad I'm not David Shore.**

**Genre: Friendship/Romance**

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**Author's Note: Now, this one's **_**really**_** old, but it could be set in whatever time period you want. You could just pick it up and drop it all over Season 7, or...place it neatly in Season 1 and simply imagine.**

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House spent the remainder of his work day in an uncharacteristic silence. No one bothered him except when they needed a consult about the patient he was currently treating, because they could see within his glazed-over blue eyes that he was somewhere else completely. He didn't snap at anyone, or make any of his usual snarky comments - his mind was still very much with Wilson in the exam room. He couldn't help himself; he was in complete shock and utter disbelief. Surely it hadn't really happened...yet, he knew it had. It had all felt like so many of the different emotions he had been experiencing for years - only better, and, in many cases, _way_ better.

Did this mean that Wilson was willing to begin a relationship with him? Because there was absolutely no doubt that that was what House wanted. Desperately. He wanted everything his best friend could possibly give, and more, and he wanted to give back just as much. He really, truly wanted it, possibly more than he'd ever wanted anything.

He thought of Wilson skin, warm and tinged with pink from their activities, and his deep, rich groans of pleasure...and nearly mangled his bottom lip trying not to respond to the mere memory. Had _he_ really caused those _incredible_ reactions? Would he have the opportunity to cause them again?

The highlight of the entire situation was not, as it happened, the long-awaited and pined-after physical affairs, but the fact that they had occured because Wilson cared about him. Wilson had always cared about him. It wasn't meaningless - any of it. And that meant more to House than - having his way with a million naked cheerleaders. He would even go so far as to say that Wilson loved him. It was written all over the long, searching, and carefully calculating looks the younger man often shot his way, sometimes when he thought House wasn't looking.

Too bad he hadn't known that House noticed everything about him. Every look, every tie, every laugh and crinkle of his brown eyes, every wife or potential love interest - especially those - every piece of advice - they were all stored carefully somewhere in his brain to be examined at his leizure. Wilson had always been his favorite subject to ponder over when his head wasn't occupied with other matters such as patients, though he only obsessed when he was having particularly terrible leg-pain, or he was worried that their relationship was somehow in danger.

House leaned back in his desk chair, rubbing his eyes, and added another to the list: he obsessed over Wilson when they had just come from having sex in Exam Room Two.

He knew that there was no way he was going to be able to rid his mind and thoughts of the oncologist that day. Perhaps not even that month or year or five...he wasn't at all sure that he even wanted to.

Without warning, and with no possible way to stop it, the image of Wilson rocking back against him took over the insides of his closed eyelids. His hands shot to his lap as he hardened alarmingly fast.

"Damn it," he muttered, slightly amused. His eyes swept the hall through the transparent door to his office - there was no one to witness what had happened. Breathing deeply and finally attempting to think of his patient, he managed to back himself out of that trench.

Now all he had to do was keep out of it until he was done for the day.

::::::

"Psst!"

House blinked, looking around for the source of the noise as he limped down the almost-empty hallway to the elevator. It sounded as if someone was trying to get his attention, but secretly. He smiled, stopping dead in his tracks. He turned to his right.

Wilson jerked his head, signaling that he follow him. How could he say no? When the oncologist, briefcase in hand, began walking in the direction House had been going in the first place, he followed. They did not, however, step into the goal elevator, which contained four people at that moment; but turned left in front of it, and continued down the hall until they reached the second. This elevator was quite empty. The two men hastened into it with dignity, and as soon as the doors closed, Wilson grabbed House's face with both hands and kissed him. House breathed a sigh of relief into his mouth, winding his arms around Wilson's middle, and pressed him against the nearest wall. The briefcase fell to the ground with a muffled thump. His insides writhed with excitement - this was really it! Wilson's hands roamed through his short, graying hair as his lips fluttered over every inch of exposed skin: his forehead, his nose, his throat, and finally back to his lips. But their affectionate explorations were cut short when the elevator _pinged_, and two doctors still in their white coats stepped inside. Fortunately, the first two were able to spring apart just in time to merely stand next to each other, having not had much time to become flushed.

When the elevator reached ground level, House and Wilson were the first out, the latter picking up his briefcase with an air of finding it heavy, simply in case anyone though it odd that he'd put it down. They walked close together as usual, but in a much more intimate sort of way. House couldn't keep his eyes from straying to Wilson's profile, and couldn't have been more grateful for the moment they reached Wilson's car, where they climbed inside without words; it was clear to both that they were not to be apart anymore that day. House would be reunited with his own car when Wilson drove him to work the next morning.

The duration of the car ride to House's apartment consisted of about fifteen minutes. All of them, in House's case, were spent gazing at his best friend, who shot him mildly amused glances every now and then. Twice, Wilson reached over to squeeze House's knee or sweep a thumb over his cheek as if to assure him that he was, in fact, real. House wished he lived closer to the hospital.

Finally, his building became visible and they arrived and parked in front of the deep green front door. Wilson cut the engine, while House leaned toward him, unable to resist any longer. His lips were met with the soft skin of Wilson's neck; he kissed it gently, one hand coming to rest on the opposite side, the thumb caressing his jawline. Wilson's brown eyes closed. All was silent but for the sound of their slow breathing. House allowed his teeth to lightly graze the sensitive spot below his ear, his tongue darting out immediately afterward. Wilson inhaled sharply, and turned so that he was facing him properly. House felt hands on his face, and a mouth searching for his, probing as if it were very fragile buried treasure that he'd only just discovered. After a moment, Wilson pulled back, his brown eyes soft and sweet. He leaned in for just one more quick peck on the mouth before speaking.

"Do we need to talk about this?" he asked quietly. House couldn't get past the fondness of his gaze or the loving quality of his slight smile. He shook his head. Dazedly.

"I'm very aware of what's happening. I'm very aware of _why_ it's happening, why it's never happened before, and why it will continue to happen. You?"

Wilson nodded as if this were exactly what he expected to hear. "It's like breaking a dam..." He leaned in for another kiss. House closed his eyes in anticipation, but was let down. He opened them again, raising an eyebrow. Wilson had leaned back, and was now gazing at him with a dreamy expression. House forced back a grin.

"I know I'm devastatingly handsome and all that - "

"You know - " Wilson interrupted with a full-on smile brightening his features. It escaladed into an endearing chuckle that made House want to laugh as well, and didn't fade. "Don't. That happens to be exactly what I was just thinking. I'm enjoying it."

House sat back, his stomach in his throat. What was he supposed to say to something like that? But Wilson didn't seem to expect a reply, so he tentatively leaned forward once more, desiring - everything imaginable.

"C'mon," he said in a low voice. "Let's go in."


End file.
